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Chapter One
SPRING
I slammed a twenty on the bar before taking one last chug of the IPA holding me together. Ben slapped my shoulder as he returned to my side, his hair still a mess and shirt torn across the front.
“I can’t believe you’re still alive,” I taunted, shaking my head. I was adjusting my coat over my shoulders when he finally replied, his hands scouring his scalp.
“I’ve never come so close to death on the job.”
“There’s a first time for everything.”
“Do you want to share a cab?” Ben asked, acknowledging my plan to leave.
I checked the clock on my phone, surprised the only missed call was from my mom and nothing from Callie. “Thanks, but I need to stop at the pharmacy. Callie’s getting in late tonight, and I need to get some flowers.”
“Such a romantic.” Ben knocked my shoulder while laughing. “Pardon me while I puke.”
“I try,” I snickered, placing my empty bottle on the counter. “Got any plans for later?”
Ben motioned for the bartender before answering, a deserved drunken grin plastering his face. “I’m just going to let Nadia keep serving me.” I followed his eyes to Nadia, too familiar with drowning our sorrows after a rough shift. Nadia’s thick black hair was a safety hazard dangling all over the place, as much as her man-eating soul was. I liked her. It was the fools forking over their paycheck that she’d devour, laughing all the way to the bank.
“Do you think she’ll ever look your way, Ben?” I teased.
“Another?” Nadia’s voice rang through her sigh, a tone that pitied my partner. Ben gaped slightly as he nodded without a sound. Eaten. Nadia was cool, but she was trouble to a single man, though, profiting from the broken souls of her fan club.
“I’ll see you in a few days, Ben. Night, Nadia.”
I walked through the piles of drunkards huddled in the doorway, lingering on the sidewalk, and escaped downtown. There was a small pharmacy on State Street that was open late, with an inventory ranging from bedazzled screwdrivers to organic goat milk. I knew they’d be open, they’d have roses, and I could get home to wait for my girlfriend’s flight to arrive.
We talked about me picking her up at the airport, but I was switched to be on-call, which threw a knot in our plans. I would’ve much preferred to still be waiting for a call instead of coming off that shift. Ben and I saw a lot together, but him almost dying while breaking apart a drunken brawl that sent three kids to the hospital was exhausting. When the chief sent us off early after I’d sutured Ben, I was eager as ever to get home.
My home was sandwiched between a row of Victorian houses turned into apartments along Lake Mendota, some rented to working professionals like me and others housing rowdy students with a license to party and puke…everywhere…outside. The sidewalks were empty as I approached my dimly lit block of Gilman. The cream-colored stones looked sad and dingy beneath the yellow street light near my corner. I couldn’t see much on my way up the sidewalk to the carport, but I memorized the path after leaving and coming home at all hours with my job. It never bothered me that the carport was dark and full of rubbish that blocked my steps, because I didn’t have time to care.
Bouquet in hand, the cellophane crinkling, I turned my key and entered through the kitchen door. I placed Callie’s flowers on the counter before taking off my soiled boots and jacket. I could have left it all at the fire station, but I wanted to get home and not think once more of work after drinks with Ben. I had two days off, and they couldn’t have come at a better time. My shift was exhausting—no matter how much or the type of experience, it never got easier.
Muffin jumped on a chair that stuck out from the kitchen table, his tiny legs battling for survival as the act of leaping so high almost broke a hip. I scratched behind his ears and scooped him into my arms, about to push in the chair when I noticed the reason it stuck out in the first place. My jacket was in a heap on the counter, by my girlfriend’s flowers. Muffin huffed as his smooshed face nuzzled into my chest. He never was a fan of visitors.
“Muff,” I whispered to the old man in my arms, “you didn’t tell me we had company.”
I glanced around in the dark, blinking my tired eyes to focus as I stepped over Callie’s scattered shoes on my way to the stairs. My geriatric dog grunted a snore as he relaxed in my hold, but it wasn’t Muffin’s sounds that consumed the space.
The wooden floor creaked beneath my feet, complementing the soft moans coming from upstairs. The glow of my bedroom television guided our path once Muffin and I reached the landing, slowly walking toward my bedroom. I stood in the doorway, not even angry. I think I was just horrified, shocked, that I couldn’t even panic. After all, Callie traveled a lot for work, and I was a first responder, so our schedules didn’t always match. That didn’t mean cheating was okay, though, so perhaps I was just imagining things. Muffin growled, his squished face offering more of a muffled humph than anything else. With my dog’s irritated reply validating the movie being filmed in my bedroom, I leaned against the doorframe and waited for them to finish. It was the least I could do.
Callie’s friend dismounted the bed, leaving Muffin and me to see a little more than we expected as he stood proudly on the floor.
“Nice performance,” I praised the pair. Callie screamed, pulling the sheets over her body as though neither of us, or my dog, had seen her naked before. That was her act of self-respect, covering herself, not actually respecting herself or our relationship, or me, enough to not cheat in our bed.
“Callie?” Her partner panicked, quick to stuff himself back into his skinny jeans and flannel shirt. I hadn’t seen fingers move so quick off the job. That dude was eager to leave, and I didn’t blame him. I had muscles, tattoos and, if I weren’t holding a senior Boston terrier, I assume I looked pretty tough.
“Noah,” she began, “we need to talk.”
“Your coat’s downstairs, dude.” I nodded to the man whose head jerked around in search of something. “You can take the bouquet that’s down there too. Those were for my girlfriend, but I seem to have wasted my money.”
“Noah, stop.”
“I’m not doing anything, Callie. Muffin and I are just watching the show. Didn’t know it’d be so graphic, though. Poor old man.” I cocked my head to look at Muffin, his droopy brown eyes gazing up at me. “You okay, Muff? Kind of raunchy, huh? Didn’t know your mom did shit like that, did you?”
“Dammit, Noah,” Callie screeched. She slipped from the bed, wrapped in the sheet as she tried to hide what both that dude and I had seen several times. I lost respect for her in that moment, so I wasn’t sure what she was trying to hide.
